A Bloody Psychopath
by beaute-ephemere
Summary: Tom Riddle meets Hermione Granger. THe consequences are... explosive.


**House : Slytherin**

 **Category : Short**

 **Prompt : "No Muggles Allowed" Sign**

 **Word Count : 1489**

A/N : This is an AU where Tom is in Hermione's year

It was a Wednesday morning when Hermione first saw Tom Riddle. As in, actually saw him. She had known him for years as the perfect boy, loved by every teacher, by every student, and with outstanding grades. But there was always something _off_ about him. She couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, and had always thought she was perhaps just a little jealous, but then, on that fateful morning, she finally realised.

Hermione had glanced into what she thought was an empty classroom when she saw that a group of Slytherins were standing in a half-circle around Tom as the latter gave what seemed to be some kind of speech - she couldn't make out what he was saying. Tom fell silent, then called out the name of one of the Slytherin boys. The latter stepped forward, trembling like a leaf, and Hermione watched on, paralysed with shock, as he was Crucio-ed before her very eyes, and it was then that she knew. Tom Riddle was a bloody psychopath.

Eyes wide, she stumbled away from the door. She would never have thought that Tom Riddle had it in him to torture his Housemate, let alone with an Unforgivable… but then she remembered all the times she had caught him smiling a shark's smile, and gazing at fellow students with a predator's gaze, as though they were nothing more than raw meat waiting to be devoured. At the thought, she shuddered.

Still shaking, she half-ran half-walked away from the abandoned classroom, hoping to get away from Tom Riddle and his Slytherin Housemates. If she could make it to the Common Room, she would be safe. It was all she could do to not look over her shoulder, and instead double her pace.

To her surprise, she did indeed make it to Gryffindor Tower unscathed. And as soon as she stepped into the room, she strode to where Harry and Ron sat playing Wizard Chess.

"Ron, Harry, I've got to tell you - I saw something terrible - I can't believe it-"

Harry spun. "What happened?" What did you see?"

"I saw - I saw Riddle. He was torturing one of his friends, and I _know_ he used the Cruciatus - don't laugh at me, Ron! I saw it with my own two eyes, Tom Riddle is a psychopath, and I'm pretty sure he's the leader of some cult!"

"Hermione! Just stop. You're bloody obsessed with the guy," Ron cried, finally looking up from the chess board. "I get that you've been pretty lonely since we broke up, but that's hardly my fault. I don't see why Harry and I need to suffer because you've developed some kind of unhealthy crush of Riddle."

"I - How dare you, Ronald Bilius Weasley! I do _not_ have a crush on Tom Riddle!" she sputtered, glowering in anger.

Harry reached out to pat her shoulder. "He does kind of have a point, 'Mione… You do talk about him an awful lot."

"I do _not_! I have _never_ talked about him, bar this once!" Outraged, she stormed off. _I'll show them_ , she thought.

In her blind fury, Hermione let her feet guide her of their own accord. After a while, she found herself in the dungeons, outside an old potions room. In the dim light, she could just make out a gold-plated sign. A whispered _Lumos_ gave her just enough light to read it : _No Muggles Allowed._

"Are you kidding me?" she muttered, and already knowing what she would find on the other side, she pushed the heavy oak door open.

A dozen green-tied teenagers turned around to face her, wands at the ready. It was then that Hermione realised something particularly humorous. "Masks, Riddle? Are you actually bloody serious? Please tell me this is some kind of joke."

Tom smiled, but his cold eyes hid a simmering fury at being mocked. "Didn't you see the sign, Granger?"

"Real funny," Hermione said in reply, hiding a prickle of unease with a sarcastic quip. It was thirteen against one, and while she normally trusted the school's prefects to keep students safe, she also knew Riddle was a psychopath, and that this deep in dungeons… no one would hear her scream.

"I'm serious." Something dangerous glinted in his eyes. "I don't take well to being interrupted by Mudbloods."

"See, we're making progress already! You've gone from saying I was a Muggle to a Mudblood! Soon you'll consider me a proper witch!" Hermione cried, half delirious with fear, no longer in control of what she was saying, but knowing it was not good.

Tom's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in shock at being spoken to in such a way. Quickly covering up his tiny slip, he turned to his followers. "I grow weary of this conversation. Someone dispose of her."

In that moment, something seemed to take possession of her, something which took her beyond emotions as mundane as fear and anger and worry; Hermione gave a low, mirthless laugh. "Don't you dare dismiss me, Tom Riddle. Who do you think you are?"

One of the Slytherins levelled his wand at her. "He's the Dark Lord, and he doesn't answer to the likes of _you_. He can do anything he wants."

Hermione continued to laugh. "Put that thing down. It's not a toy," she spat, disarming him with a flick of her wand. Someone else tried to fire a spell at her, but she deflected it and sent him flying across the room easily. "Come on, Riddle. Can't you do _any_ better? Your minions are pathetic."

Riddle's face twisted into a most unflattering sneer. With a snap of his fingertips, he summoned Hermione's wand. "Don't insult me, filthy mudblood. You are defenseless, left without a wand, your only weak claim to magic! Let us see how you fare against the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself!"

His words flipped a switch inside Hermione : pure fury consumed her, and power began coursing through her veins. Without fully realising what she was doing, she shot a nearby minion with a jet of light that left him crumpled on the ground. Another was consumed in flames, writhing helplessly as the room filled with the smell of burning flesh. The others attempted to run to the door, but there was nothing stopping Hermione now, and she left them all unconscious.

She was brought back to the moment by a slow clap. "Impressive, mudblood."

"Shut up. I just killed a bunch of your followers. Oh Merlin, I just _killed_ a bunch of your followers."

"Yes, yes I know, I was here. But I think you have more to offer." He regarded her with dark eyes that held just the barest hint of blood red. "Don't waste your potential on moral qualms."

"I-"

"You can't beat me. Join me, or you'll never leave this room."

That did it. Hermione stood ramrod straight, her back stiff as she snarled, "I'd rather die standing than live kneeling at your feet as a mindless minion."

"Now, now, Hermione. No one ever said anything about kneeling, though I can think of something you might have to kneel for… Anyway, I digress. Every king needs a queen, does he not?" He stretched out his hand to her.

As the realisation of what he was saying hit her, Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. "Tom Riddle, talking of a queen to his king? And a muggleborn queen, no less? I do hope you know what you're proposing."

Tom smiled. "I'm a man who knows what he wants."

"Indeed."

"Well, my Lady," he began, gesturing to the pile of bodies beside him. "I hope you'll allow me to dispose of this mess for you."

"Ah, sorry about that."

"They were rather useless, if I'm honest. Now, I suggest you go clean yourself off before Tweedledee and Tweedledum wonder where you went off to and get suspicious. And this weekend, we shall make a visit to Twilfit and Tattings. As my Lady, you require a proper wardrobe."

"Sure." Surprised by her own daring, she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. "See you later, Tom."

She shut the door behind her and bumped into something. She looked down and saw it was the _No Muggles Allowed_ sign, and reality hit her like a brick. She began to retch, disgusted by herself. _Oh fuck,_ she thought. _What have I done?_

A few moments later, she felt a warm arm around her shoulders. "Oh dear," she heard a voice, Tom's in fact, say. "Come with me, I'll have the elves bring you something. The first time can be a bit hard. Don't worry, it gets easier." He offered her his arm to lean upon, and she took it, not worrying about the consequences. After all, he was smart and charming and good-looking and it was a little late to go back now. Her last coherent thought before she passed out in his arms was that _Merlin, he smelled good_.


End file.
